


What's Past is Prolouge

by deerntheheadlights



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Dialogue Heavy, Heart-to-Heart, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), the gaang find out how zuko got his scar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerntheheadlights/pseuds/deerntheheadlights
Summary: "It was only a matter of time before the others woke up to the noise, and the last thing Zuko wanted was pity. He paced the floor like a caged animal, exhaling flames with every breath. He wanted to burn down the house with himself and every memory of what used to be inside. Were his memories of his family’s Ember Island home happy, or was he equating happiness with having a mother? Was it happy, or was it just Before?"After the Ember Island Players perform The Boy in the Iceberg and all of his friends find out the truth about how Zuko really got his scar and what kind of person his father really is, Zuko breaks down and Sokka is there to help him pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Zukka if you look hard enough
Comments: 10
Kudos: 680





	What's Past is Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> After the Ember Island Players perform The Boy in the Iceberg and all of his friends find out the truth about how Zuko really got his scar and what kind of person his father really is, Zuko breaks down and Sokka is there to be the friend he needs. 
> 
> ***General Trigger Warning: Abuse mention, death mention, angst, general mental health***

A flash. A scream. Applause. The heavy red curtains fell on the first act. 

Zuko hadn’t realized he’d stood up. His stomach dropped when the curtains did; he felt sick. Pulling his hood over his head, Zuko fled the auditorium— up the steps, out to the balcony, hands gripping the railing in front of him turning the cool metal red hot. The night was warm, and the ocean breeze made the air sticky and wet. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling and taking another; just like his uncle had shown him. “Breathe, Prince Zuko,” Iroh would have said, “do not let how you are feeling decide who you will be.” 

Breathe. 

It was all he could do to keep from burning the entire theatre and everyone in it to a smoldering pile of embers. Zuko never told anyone, including his friends, how exactly he’d gotten his scar. Everyone, he assumed, had their own idea of what happened and, as he was more than happy to never have to discuss that day ever again for as long as he shall live, it didn’t really matter to him what conclusions they’d drawn for themselves. The Ember Island Players had gotten some of the details wrong, but it didn’t matter. Now they knew. Now everyone knew that Zuko, the banished Prince, had been burned by his own father, on purpose, as punishment. 

Zuko sat down against the balcony and put his head in his hands, the scar felt rough against his fingertips. He wanted his uncle. He wanted his mother. Inside the auditorium, his friends sat in stunned silence trying to process what exactly it was that they had just seen.

“Did he just…?” Katara trailed off. 

“Yes.” Sokka sat stoic, blood boiling. Suki, who had seen Zuko rush out of the room, put a reassuring hand on Sokka’s shoulder before standing and exiting the theatre the same way Zuko had. She found him outside looking directly at nothing off in the middle distance, breath shaky and muscles tense. He had never looked small before, she thought. Suki offered him her hand. She knew how the others would react— Aang would worry about him, Katara would pity him, Toph and Sokka would try to play it cool but tension would be thick enough to cut through with a dull blade— so Suki decided to do something different in treating him exactly the same; like nothing was wrong like she hadn’t just watched what was almost certainly the worst day of his life play out in front her to roaring applause.

“Come on,” she said, “the second act is starting soon.” Zuko stood and, with a knowing look, followed Suki back to their seats. 

***

The group walked the path back to the house— Zuko’s house, that he had lived in, with his father, who had burned his face on purpose— in awkward silence; looking to each other, then to Zuko, then to the ground. The play left a sick feeling in each of their stomachs and a bad taste in their mouths. No one wanted to be the first to speak.  
They parted until dinner.

It went exactly how Suki predicted, Zuko sat completely silent, Aang and Katara exchanged nervous glances, and Sokka attempted to remedy the situation with jokes so bad that Toph sent a rock his way just to make him stop. Finally, Katara spoke up. 

“Look, can we talk about what happened tonight? It’s got us all on edge and we’re going to stay there unless we work through it.” 

“What’s to talk about? It was just a play, it’s not real.” Sokka asked through a mouthful of crab. 

“And it wasn’t even a good play,” Toph added. 

“I just think that if we’re supposed to be a team then we should be honest with each other about how we feel. It’s what friends do,” Katara said.

“Katara’s right,” Aang said. “The ending really freaked me out, and I know that all of you can feel it too.” 

Sokka sat up straighter and spoke seriously, “we already knew that Ozai is a really bad dude, we’re gonna take care of it. There’s nothing else to say, it was a play. Fiction.” 

Zuko stood and turned to leave. 

“Where are you going?” Katara asked

“Out,” he replied, curtly.

“We’re having a discussion.”

“You are. I’m leaving.” 

Katara stood, arms crossed, and said, “don’t you think we should talk about this? As a group?”

“I think we should pretend we never saw that stupid play and start over tomorrow,” Toph shouted from across the courtyard. 

“Agreed,” Zuko and turned to leave again. 

“Zuko wait!” 

“What?!” he snapped at Katara. “What do you want? What do you want to talk about??” He took a few steps towards her and she stepped back. Sokka started to stand but Suki held his arm and pulled him back down.  
“Do you want to talk about how Ozai is completely evil beyond comprehension? About how he wants to destroy the world?” He was yelling now. “Do you want to talk about how horrible of a father he is? How he banished me and turned my little sister into a weapon?  
“Or did you want to talk about how he burned me? He put his hand to my face and held it there and listened to me scream until I passed out! He was going to kill me like he always wanted to! Like he probably killed my uncle who I betrayed over and over and who loved me anyway! Like he killed Ursa!!!” He slammed his fists down at his sides and flames in the courtyard rose high into the air and crashed down, throwing embers like a wave against a rocky shoreline sends seafoam in every direction. Zuko ran off down the path, into the night, towards the beach. His ears were ringing, and his heart pounded so hard he thought it might give out.

***

Sokka heard the front door open and shut sometime later. Then, a bang. Instinctively, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and sat up in bed, listening for some sign of trouble in the darkness. 

Suki stirred, “Sokka? It’s probably just Zuko.” 

“Yeah...” he said, warily. “I’m just...I’m gonna go check.” 

“Check on the noise, or on Zuko?” she asked; he slipped out of the door without an answer. 

In the hall, an attic opening he’d not noticed before exhaled a dull glow. Below it lay a ladder collapsed on the floor, the source of the noise that’d awoken him, he presumed. Sokka set the ladder against the opening and began his ascent. Halfway up he could hear someone in the room rifling around, digging through boxes. Quietly, he climbed the rest of the ladder and stood at its top watching for a moment as a distressed Zuko threw a ceramic and cursed himself. 

It was only a matter of time before the others woke up to the noise, and the last thing Zuko wanted was pity. Zuko paced like a caged animal, exhaling flames with every breath. He wanted to burn down the house with himself and every memory of what used to be inside. Were his memories of his family’s Ember Island home happy, or was he equating happiness with having a mother? Was it happy, or was it just Before? 

Sokka watched silent and still at the top of the ladder while Zuko dug through more boxes. He hadn’t been noticed yet and he hoped to keep it that way; he didn’t want to startle Zuko, but more than that he was a tinge curious as to what Zuko was looking for. This wasn’t a tantrum it was a frantic hunt for an unknown treasure, somewhere in those boxes and crates was something that Zuko desperately wanted. After a few minutes, he found it. Zuko pulled a small wooden box from a larger one and sat down with his legs crossed and his treasure chest held on his lap. Carefully, he removed the lid, setting the box on the floor in front of him, took out neatly wrapped and ribbon bound scrolls. He opened 2 of them, scanned them, and tossed them aside. The third, he unrolled and examined closely. The panicked energy from before began to dissipate and Sokka figured that was as good a time as any to check on his friend. He knocked twice on the floor to announce his presence and pulled himself up and into the attic. 

“Hey, man…” Sokka said, approaching cautiously. He had no idea what Zuko was going to do but he could tell by the way his shoulders shook that he was close to tears. 

“What do you want? Can you just leave me alone? Please?” 

“Zuko I—”

Zuko cut him off before he could finish, “I’m fine. Go away.” 

Sokka ignored his protests and sat down near but not next to Zuko who was still looking down at the same scroll he’d opened. 

“What is that?” Zuko looked to him and then back to the scroll, carefully he held it up so Sokka could see. Sokka moved in closer, they sat shoulder to shoulder as he looked over the paper more completely. A theatre poster, a neat portrait of a woman with long dark hair looked back at him. She held a flower in one hand and a painted dragon flew behind her. The title of the play, Love Amongst the Dragons, printed in large letters.  
He gave Zuko a confused glance, it was a nice picture and all, but he didn’t entirely understand why Zuko tore the room apart looking for it. 

“She’s my mother…” Zuko whispered. He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so small. 

"Ursa?" Sokka asked, remembering that Zuko had mentioned a woman when he was yelling at Katara earlier in the evening." 

Zuko nodded in response.

“She’s beautiful. You look like her.”

Zuko scoffed, “I would have.” He brought his hand to his scarred cheek.

“Is she—”

“Dead,” Zuko’s voice was sharp and cut through the question like a knife. “Ozai was going to kill me so she killed Fire Lord Azulon for him, his life for mine. And then he killed her. Or exiled her. Or imprisoned her. I don’t know. She was there, and then she was gone, and she never came back for me so she must be dead!” His voice rose as he spoke, he fought back tears. 

“Everyone knows what he did to me. Did you know back home I’m a cautionary tale for fire nation children? The crown prince burned and banished because he didn’t respect his elders, his father, or his country; ‘so you better behave, children, if you don’t want to end up like Prince Zuko!’” He let out a deep breath and traced his fingers across his mother’s picture. Sokka wanted to say something but was at a complete loss for words. He thought of his own father, his loving, caring, do anything for his children father who would die before he let anyone hurt his children; and then he thought of Zuko’s father who on three separate occasions had wanted to hurt his own son himself. 

Finally, and warily, Sokka asked, “what happened that day?” 

“You saw the play.” Zuko scoffed, not even a full and complete breakdown was going to rob him of an opportunity to rattle off sarcastic quips. 

“No, I mean, what really happened.” 

“It was a stupid war meeting; I don’t even know why I wanted to go so badly. I just wanted to be included. My uncle said that I could go in with him as long as I didn’t speak. Children are to be seen and not heard, and I wasn’t even supposed to be seen. One of the general’s presented his plan to my father. He was going to sacrifice an entire battalion of new recruits as a distraction; they wanted to use our own soldiers as bait! And I thought about my uncle and how Lu Ten died fighting for the Fire Nation and now they want to just leave their own people to die on purpose and pretend that it’s a justifiable loss? The few for the many like the few don’t matter?!

Zuko stood and paced back and forth in front of Sokka, throwing his arms around wildly as he continued, “I’m an idiot and I don’t think things through, and I spoke out of turn. I disrespected the general and the punishment is Agni Kai. But when I went to face my opponent it wasn’t the general… ‘You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.’ That’s what he said to me, I will learn respect and suffering will be my teacher! I was on my knees begging for mercy and forgiveness and told me to suffer!! And he put his hand on my face and left it there and all I could hear was my own screaming… I woke up 3 days later on a boat with my uncle and a letter that said to come back with the Avatar or don’t come back at all...”

Sokka— and the others, who had finally been roused by the yelling and item throwing and were now huddled together at the bottom of the ladder listening to Zuko describe the worst day of his life— sat in stunned silence. It hadn’t ever occurred to them that the Avatar witch-hunt Zuko was on hadn’t been of his own design. 

“But we didn't even find Aang until... How were you supposed to..?"

“I wasn’t. It’d be in bad form to kill your wife and your firstborn, so he sent me off instead. Probably hoping that a storm or some act of Agni would kill me and save him the trouble and the scandal. The worst things I did in my entire life I did for him, so he’d love me.”

“Why did you go back? After what happened in Ba Sing Se you went back home, why would you go back there? Back to him?” Sokka’s voice was raised; indignant and disgusted not at Zuko but at the realization that Fire Lord Ozai was, somehow, an even more despicable human being than Sokka could have ever imagined him being. 

“I didn’t know what else to do… Everyone in Ba Sing Se would know that uncle and I were Fire Nation, we’d have to leave the city as refugees again, I was going to lose everything again and Azula said that if I helped her capture Aang that I’d be a hero, that I could go home with her and my honor would be restored. She's my little sister and I... I hadn’t been home in 3 years, I hadn’t slept in my bed in 3 years, I just wanted to go home…

“I left with Azula, I betrayed my uncle, and when I finally came to my senses it was too late. I confronted my father, he tried to kill me again and I escaped. I didn’t even say goodbye to Mai, I just left her a note like a coward. I went to break my uncle out of the prison but when I got there he was already gone. Gone. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive or imprisoned; like my mother, I just know that he’s gone, and he didn’t come for me.”

Zuko sat leaned against the wall across from Sokka; his breathing was shallow and shaky. The moon still shone bright through the open attic window, but Sokka knew dawn couldn’t be too far away. He’d never heard Zuko talk like that before; he’d never seemed so small. Outside of his occasional recklessness and general moody behavior, Zuko was so serious and somber most of the time that it was easy to forget he was a kid too just like the rest of them. They sat in silence while the sun rose and the moon fell, and the sunrise washed the room in oranges in pinks. Sokka thought about Yue, and about Suki who was waiting for him downstairs. Zuko thought about the way the light coming in through the shutters hit his mother’s picture in a way that brought her to life; maybe he does look like her. Maybe love isn’t in the position you’re born into or the people you’ve lost, maybe it’s in the place you’ve carved for yourself and the people you choose to fill it with.

“I’m sorry about your mom, Zuko.”

“I’m sorry about yours too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, sorry there isn't any plot!


End file.
